


Dream A Little Dream Of Me

by PastelWonder



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:06:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What our subconscious desires is revealed to us in our dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream A Little Dream Of Me

It’s two in the morning.

Exhaustion has settled over Hotchner like a miasma, choking out the voice that says this is a bad idea. The voice that says he shouldn't press his forehead against her bunker door, shouldn't watch the blue light from her monitors flicker along the threshold as she glides from screen-to-screen. This is wrong, and he knows it, but his fingertips trace lazy patterns over the cool metal while the _tip tip tap_ of her long nails on her keyboards trickles through him.

He should leave- slink back to his office full of empty pictures frames and piles of paperwork and nervous breakdowns (or major depressive episodes, he snorts). If Morgan ever saw him like this…

And then there’s Kevin.

He rolls his eyes.

He writes Kevin's name across her door with his fingertip, then crosses it out and writes his own. He should leave now, but he's imagining Kevin's hands on Garcia, and it's enough to make his eyes narrow and his jaw clench tight. It should be his hands on her body and his face buried between her breasts. God, she's so soft and warm and he'd feel….

Something swells in his chest; it feels a lot like hurt and jealousy and want, and it scares him enough to brace himself against the doorframe and shove away from her door.

He pours over the files on his desk, casually noticing the way the light changes in his office as the sun rises outside his window. Even though his blinds are closed, the light finds a way in, streaming like strands of gold through the small holes in the slats that bind them together.

A metaphor he’s too tired to unravel.

"Hey, boss." Garcia is standing in his doorway. Her smile is sweet and sleepy, her eyes half open and her body swaying with fatigue. "Can I trouble you for an escort, good sir?"

“Penelope-” He glances at his watch. “It’s five am. What are you still doing here?”

“Data migration,” she yawns. She shakes her head, then flashes him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry - too many XML files, not enough sleep.”

He makes a noncommittal sound as he stands, smoothing a hand self-consciously over his dress shirt. He gestures for her to lead the way as he comes around his desk.

In the elevator, she sags against the wall, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Her earrings tinkling pleasantly as the elevator starts with a lurch.

He’s dimly aware that the tips of his fingers are vibrating - exhaustion, he tells himself - as he says quietly, “You really shouldn’t be here so late.”

She smiles, “Neither should you,” and cracks an eye open to see if he’ll admonish her for being so informal with him.

He doesn’t.

Perhaps she’s emboldened by that, because she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow as the elevator doors open to the parking garage.

“I’m exhausted,” she pipes up unexpectedly when they reach her car. She laughs, sounding a bit punch-drunk, and the sound warms him to the bone.

“I can imagine,” he says wryly, slipping his hands into his pockets as she fishes her keys out of her large quilted purse.

“I can hardly keep my eyes open,” she breathes, swaying towards him a little as her eyes droop. He wonders if she should drive herself, and then his mind goes strangely blank as he catches her automatically with his arms around her waist.

“Go home, Penelope,” he rumbles, eyes wandering over her pretty face. He feels himself starting to harden and swallows.

She is so fucking soft…

“Come with me,” she whispers, her finger sliding beneath the length of his tie. She gives him another shy, sleepy smile.

He hardly hears his own, “Excuse me?” over the ringing in his ears.

She stretches up a little, breasts pressing against his chest as she murmurs more clearly, “Come home with me.”

Adrenaline strikes his spine like lightning, and he physically jerks before he dips his head to kiss-

“Hotch? Hah-ahtch?”

He inhales sharply, sitting up in his office chair with a jolt.

Garcia is standing in his doorway, her quilted purse over one shoulder, smiling. “Fell asleep at the helm, huh?”

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands until the image of her face so close to his fades away.

"Hey, there - everything ok?" She sounds worried. Worried for him.

He nods, blinking. “I- I’m fine. Thank you. I’m fine.”

Her smile brightens at his reassurance. “Just wanted to let you know I was heading out!”

He stands, feeling like his feet are moving of their own accord as he rounds his desk and snatches his coat off the rack. “Let me walk you out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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